


A Little Perspective

by atheartagentleman



Series: Distractions [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Joly is the embodiment of Tumblr, M/M, OT3, Other, Pining, Piningjolras, Prompt Fic, but they make it work, fewer love triangles more threesomes, polysexual Grantaire, so much pining, this wins all the awards for World's Worst Summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheartagentleman/pseuds/atheartagentleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times someone noticed that someone was in love with Eponine, and one time she saw it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pralinedetective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pralinedetective/gifts).



> Betaed for me by [crazynerdyfangirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynerdyfangirl/pseuds/crazynerdyfangirl), whose input it always excellent.
> 
> This is the almost-two-months-late response to a prompt from pralinedetective, thank you, and I hope you like it!

 

1\. **Grantaire**

Enjolras’ adoration of Eponine is plain as day; whenever they’re not joined at the hip, or holding hands, or arm in arm, or curled into spaces barely big enough for one person, he’s talking about her like he can’t help it. ‘So last week, when I was talking to Eponine --’, ‘oh, well, Eponine did --’, ‘Eponine and I --’, ‘there are some people I need to introduce Eponine to, because everyone should meet her --’.

Whether or not they go way back is a matter of opinion. They met on a social justice forum when they were fifteen, and seven years isn’t actually all that much in friendship terms when other friend-pairs have known each other since the cradle. On the other hand, well… They have this vibe like they’ve never _not_ known each other. Like it’s been seven years in dog years. In which case, yes, they go way way back.

Grantaire assumes they’re dating when he first meets them, and he will always insist that this was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, with the way they revolve around each other. And quite frankly, they _are_ dating. It’s just that society is so fixated on the sexual aspect of a relationship that most people can’t acknowledge it (and oh shit, he’s starting to sound like an actual card-carrying Ami with Views and a Cause). Because sure, Enjolras is as gay as the day is long, but he’s in love with Eponine, and they are for all intents and purposes dating. It’s that simple. It really is.

Or rather, it would be if E-squared themselves perceived it that way. Grantaire’s big blunder happens maybe three months into knowing them, by which time he’s already very much in love with Enjolras himself, and trying really hard not to be bitter. To be a mature adult (haha). And sure, it hurts like hell, but he also genuinely really _likes_ Eponine. She’s funny and sarcastic and smart and self-reliant and a whole load of other things he wishes he were, and she can match him drink for drink for the first two hours or so (at which point she drops out, which is just as well, because has he mentioned recently that he’s an alcoholic and that matching his every drink is a worrying skill to have?).

So he does what every mature, totally-not-bitter adult would do and congratulates Enjolras on having found someone as wonderful as Eponine and on not having driven her away. (Well what? It’s not like he can congratulate Enjolras on such a great _catch_ because Eponine is not a fucking _fish_ for fuck’s sake! He’s done and said some things around women that he’s not proud of, and once memorably led to Bossuet physically restraining him, but even he can learn. Sometimes.)

Enjolras’ response to this is to look at him blankly for a long time, until the cogs in his head turn and he gets this air of long-suffering patience instead. Grantaire preferred the blank look, to be honest, but it’s not like the universe ever listens to what he wants.

‘Ponine and I aren’t a couple.’

‘Oh. Right.’

He excuses himself rather quickly after that -- which would be fine, except he does it by claiming a need to use the bathroom and then going on for a couple of minutes about the dangers of ‘breaking the seal’ once you’ve had a few drinks. So he goes to the bathroom for a bit to hide, because he _should not be allowed in public, like, ever_ and, more importantly, _should never be allowed to talk to Enjolras again_. Seriously who in their right mind finds out that the man they’re in love with is not in fact dating his best friend, and instead of flirting or taking him in a manly fashion, talks to said love-of-life about their fucking bladder? Nobody. That’s who.

Only, as he stares at himself in the dingy mirror under the dingy lights (and hey wow he himself looks especially dingy today, what a coincidence) he realises that Enjolras is correct on a mere technicality, and no more. OK, so he and Eponine aren’t a _couple_. That doesn’t make them any less soulmate-esque, or Enjolras any less in love with her. So Grantaire is back at square one. On the plus side, at least his bladder-monologue won’t have changed anything.

2\. **Gavroche**

People tend to forget that Gavroche is eleven, and that when you’re eleven, the idea of ‘being in love’ doesn’t usually mean a whole lot. It wasn’t that long ago that girls had _cooties_ , and he still thinks that people macking on each other is a little weird. If anyone ever finds out that he’s actually pretty curious, he will end them.

Even so, he’s a smart kid and he’s learned the hard way to be observant, so he has always been able to tell when someone thought Eponine was the coolest. Gradually, he learns to tell who has a crush, who is a sleazeball and who actually cares about his big sis. Montparnasse is a good example: he is, first and foremost, a grade-A skeeze. Bit by bit though, he realised that, hey, Eponine is _the shit_ , and Gavroche would bet there is something going on there.

And then, of course, there’s Enjolras.

The thing about Montparnasse is that he was never really a threat. Well, OK, so he _was_ a threat in the sense that he could literally kill any of them if he ever felt like it, but he wasn’t a _threat_ -threat. Not the way that Enjolras is. Gavroche sees this right away, when Eponine comes back from finally meeting her _internet friend_ glowing with tentative happiness, rather than just the satisfaction of having pulled the wool over some creep’s eyes, but nobody will listen to him. Enjolras is always around Eponine, and she’s always around him, and _he is going to take Eponine away from Gavroche_.

Living inside a statue-park is way awesome, and loads of kids go to bed every night wishing they didn’t have parents to make them do homework. His life is pretty damn cool, and he certainly doesn’t want back in with mom and dad, but, well… Eponine is his big sis. And he’ll always be first in line to tell people how much of a pain she is and all, but he’s also first in line to punch anyone who insults her. He’s allowed to do that. They’re not.

It would be easier if Enjolras _were_ insulting her, because he has a standard procedure for that. Instead, Enjolras loves her, and it fucking terrifies Gavroche because for all the shit they’ve been through, this is the closest he has ever come to losing Eponine.

He tries to sabotage Enjolras at every turn, until he meets Enjolras’ friends and decides that a) they’re pretty cool, especially Courfeyrac and Bahorel, b) Enjolras himself must be pretty cool because otherwise his friends would not put up with him, and c) Eponine’ not actually around any less. This does not stop him from giving Enjolras serious side-eye whenever he can.

3\. **Cosette**

What are friends for, if not to remind you regularly of past harmless humiliations? There is one -- at least -- which Cosette will never be allowed to live down.

It’s not her fault, it really isn’t. Winter is just beginning to retract its claws, and there are birds nesting in an empty flower-pot on her terrace and everything feels full of promise and clear mornings and daffodils. Commercialism be damned, the end of winter _means_ something in the world of Romance, and Cosette’s heart thrums against her ribs to its high-stepping tune. Her own life seems newly filled with bunches of roses and kind freckles and she feels she could fly.

But her friends, love them dearly though she does, have hardly a romantic bone between them (except Grantaire, who has a romantic skeleton but does his level best to keep it hidden and also make sure it is regularly broken and doesn’t heal right). Cosette will take what crumbs she can get, and this time, the crumb is Bahorel’s gaze briefly following Eponine as she weaves her way among the tables at the Corinthe towards the bar. She’s just getting the next round for herself, Bahorel and R, but the damage is done. Cosette is utterly convinced that Bahorel is madly in love with Eponine, who is herself too busy pining after Marius to notice. She’s a little unsure how Enjolras features in this, until he decides that his best-friend-soul-twin-life-partner thing with Eponine is a contributing factor in Bahorel’s distance.

She tries not to think too hard about the _Marius_ aspects of it, because that way lie green-eyed monsters and every annoying high-school dramedy ever written. She can at least admit to herself that her hopes for Bahorel’s success are not entirely selfless.

The ‘clues’ pile up. Bahorel teaches Gavroche to box, because it means spending time with Eponine. Bahorel meets up with R on the off-chance that Eponine will join them (an assumption which, in hindsight, is deeply unfair to R). Is Bahorel being more polite to her than anyone else? Is he picking up her tab for drinks or coffee more often than before? Do his eyes follow her, seek her out in every room? Yes, undoubtedly, of course, there can be no mistake. Cosette sighs dreamily into her second Manhattan. She will go home and every song on her iPod will somehow be about them. The less said about the terrible attempts at iambic pentameter that pile up in her diary, the better.

If she’s being perfectly honest later on, she doesn’t even know whether most of the signs she saw even _happened_ , but it it’s a good dream while it lasts.

It crashes and burns the day Bahorel brings his girlfriend along to a meeting. Cosette is too floored to catch her name, but she laughs a lot and wears bright lipstick and polka-dotted trousers that Cosette wishes she could carry off with as much grace as the mystery woman. They are quite smitten with each other and it’s lovely to watch, but Cosette has to admit she takes it a little personally at first.

She’s grateful for another female presence, even as her worries about Eponine and Marius come surging back.

4\. **Enjolras**

Enjolras’ life comprises many certainties. High on this list is the certainty that Eponine is wonderful in pretty much every way. So of course Grantaire would love her. Who wouldn’t? She’s just so damn great. And Grantaire is great. And Enjolras has long ago learned to be on his guard against false syllogisms, but this one adds up.

Premise one: Eponine is wonderful.

Premise two: Grantaire is wonderful.

Conclusion: they are collectively wonderful. Together.

And he’s happy for them, he truly is, because Enjolras has always put himself last. Not that he doesn’t think highly of himself -- he knows he’s good at what he does, knows he’s clever, knows he’s mostly a good person -- but he has never been one to prioritise his own happiness over that of others, because in a world where everyone is equal, there is no justification for it. So he’s happy for them, or at least he will be once they get their act together. And oh, that awkward conversation when Grantaire congratulated him on his relationship with Eponine makes so much sense in retrospect, because in telling Grantaire they weren’t together, he was essentially giving him permission to pursue her. They deserve each other in all the best ways, though, so that’s OK.

And yet… Well, if he goes to sleep at night with his shoulders shaking from suppressed emotion and his chest painfully gnarled and his dry eyes red-rimmed, nobody need know about that. There are too many levels of heartbreak there for him to parse properly.

5\. **Joly**

Joly has a theory about the world, fiction and romantic narratives. It goes something like this: people would be a lot happier if the instant reaction to patterns of love and pining were ‘threesome’ rather than ‘oh, a love triangle’.

Monogamy has become so normalised -- and Joly has read whole books on the subject -- that even those whose friends _are in a three-way relationship_ don’t look beyond it. It doesn’t even occur to them. Really, it boggles the mind… For people as smart as his friend-group, their tendency to look upon Joly’s relationship as the statistical outlier (no matter how supportive they are) is a little confusing.

Grantaire and Enjolras clearly both adore Eponine (and how Cosette missed this is a mystery for the ages). They also clearly both adore each other. And Eponine adores them. Can you see where this is going? Because in Joly’s book the answer is as clear as day.

‘Why though?’ he asks pitifully, and Musichetta strokes his hair as he buries his face in her shoulder. ‘How are they so stupid about this?’

‘I know pet, I know.’

‘Should I talk to them about it?’

‘No. I think that will backfire horribly, and I think you think so too.’

Joly whimpers softly and presses even closer to her neck. She smells especially lovely today, and it’s an excellent way to hide from the world and his frustration.

Musichetta is right, of course (she always is) and for a week, Joly manages to bite back every comment, rein himself in before he facepalms, and generally act like nothing is going on. In the privacy of their home, Bossuet is subjected to rant after rant that is quickly cut off when Chetta comes home, lest she think him on the brink of meddling. He’s trying so hard to follow her advice and be good.

His resolve lasts seven whole days.

He’s actually quite proud.

6\. **Eponine**

‘Eponine, do you have a moment?’

‘Hey, Joly, what’s up?’ She adjusts the books she’s carrying on her hip, settling in for a chat.

‘OK I’m about to be horrifically blunt, and I hope you will forgive me for this.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Enjolras and Grantaire are completely gone for each other, I’m sure you’ll agree,’ (she nods, unsure where this is going.) ‘And I know that with R there are a whole bunch of other things going on that are screwing him over, but the main thing that’s holding _Enjolras_ back is that he can see how gone Grantaire also is for _you_. Now the three of you can continue to mope around one another like sad little planets or --’

‘Hold up a sec,’ she interrupts. ‘Grantaire is _what_?’

‘Pining for Ponine?’ Joly offers with a sheepish smile.

Eponine winces both at the god-awful pun and at the meaning behind it. ‘Nope. No way. I mean obviously they’re nuts about each other, but other than that? No fucking way.’

‘Is this a ‘can’t love more than one person’ thing or is this a ‘why me?’ thing?’ Joly inquires mildly, but there is an edge to his words that has Eponine’s eyes widening in alarm as she plays her own words back to herself.

‘Definitely a ‘why me?’ thing!’ she blurts, and then kicks herself for admitting it. Damn Joly and his guilt trip.

‘Right. Look, I can’t make that go away, that has to come from you. But if you can look past the knee-jerk reaction and see the pair of them clearly, you’ll realise I’m right. And when that happens, I hope you’ll keep your mind open to the possibilities. Trust me, I’m the doctor. Well, almost.’

He gives her a quick hug, tucks his nose firmly back into his scarf and hurries off.

Eponine’s first instinct is to ignore the entire conversation and carry on as normal. But Joly is a shrewd observer, so his words dig a little hole in her brain and nestle there, periodically emerging to sniff the air and make themselves known. It’s a little bit like having a hedgehog inside her head. Gradually, she gets used to its presence, and then starts to leave little saucers of milk to coax it out and get a proper look at it. She watches Enjolras and Grantaire more closely, more analytically (and suppresses the feelings of guilt at dissecting her friends’ behaviour around her, stops the whispers of _you’re reading too much into this and that makes you a terrible person_ ).

Frankly, Joly might have a point.

Maybe.

Before she can contemplate acting on the possibility, though, she has to sort out a few things. First, and most importantly, she has to get Enjolras and Grantaire together. This has actually been a long-term project of hers, because they are so very clearly meant to be, but it has taken on a new urgency now. She only wants them if they still want her once they have each other. Maybe once that wouldn’t have bothered her, but she has put a lot of effort into building up the self-respect not to be anyone’s rebound, and no fucking way is she sacrificing that now.

She tries subtlety. She tries hints. She tries complex, fabricated stories designed to provoke a reaction -- any reaction. In the end, she throws her hands in the air, thinks _fuckit_ and simply sends them on a date with each other.

The idiots, of course, don’t realise it’s a date until Grantaire makes some nervous attempt at a joke half-way through (‘doesn’t Eponine worry sending you on a date with me?’) and they both freeze like a pair of rabbits in the face of the oncoming Truck of Rejection, and then Enjolras kisses him and neither of them really remembers how to stop. She only knows this because of a string of frantic texts she gets from each of them from which she pieces together a picture of events.

 _I told you so_ goes the voice in Eponine’s head when, during the following weeks, Enjolras and Grantaire spend only stolen moments with her. In a way, it’s not even like that much has changed; Enjolras still spends most of his waking (and possibly even sleeping, but she really doesn’t want to know about that) hours planning for the revolution. Only now, when he wraps up one task and needs a fuel injection before he begins the next phase, it’s Grantaire he calls. _Really_ , not much has changed; Grantaire already seemed not to breathe unless he was in Enjolras’ presence long before she set them up. Only now, she doesn’t pick up the phone at 3am to listen to him ramble brokenly about art or classics or whatever, when he’s trying too hard not to say what he really wants to say, out of respect for her feelings.

It _feels_ different though, and even as she congratulates herself and gives herself another sticker in her Evil Mastermind booklet, she tastes bitterness.

To their credit, it doesn’t take Enjolras and Grantaire long to notice that somehow something is still missing. They see it every time they turn to talk to someone only to realise that it’s not the someone they expected. After that, it’s child’s play to realise that it’s Eponine they’re looking for. By some miracle, they have this epiphany at pretty much the same time, or who knows where the spiral of _why do I keep looking for her when I finally have **him**_ would have taken them.

The dinner invitation comes about two days later (by Enjolras’ account, when she finally threatens and cajoles him into spilling everything).

‘You up for Mexican tomorrow?’ The old warmth never left Enjolras’ voice, but she hasn’t allowed herself to hear it since he and R started dating. She hears it again now. It is buoyed by R’s smile -- crooked and gauche and familiar -- where he leans against Enjolras with tentative casualness.

‘Only if you’re paying and won’t make snide comments about my choice of taco fillings.’ It’s an old argument, and there’s a safety in it that allows them all to relax.

They get dinner and it’s just like before, except when it’s better, because Grantaire stops her and Enjolras from getting too intense, and Enjolras stops her and Grantaire from getting too self-indulgently maudlin. And she? Well, to be honest, she’s not too sure how she tempers them yet, which is also why it’s worse than before because she can’t quite shake the sensation of being a third wheel. It’s why she excuses herself before dessert, because she does not want to have to watch them sharing ice-cream or some shit and being super cute (who’d have guessed it Enjolras was capable of looking so soppy?) and then leaving _together_ while she goes back to her shitty apartment by herself.

The ritual is repeated the following week. Then three days later. Then they ambush her for lunch. Drag her to suprisingly-good acoustic nights in bars. Instruct her to bring ice-cream and her fabulous self, because Enjolras hasn’t seen _Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels_ and this cannot be allowed to continue.

It doesn’t occur to her to think they’re dating. They get coffee a lot, sure, but they’ve always done that. And what’s dinner out if not a meal between friends? Movie nights are a staple of college life, and cuddling is high on her list of favourite things, so it makes sense to end up snuggled under R’s chin as he plays with her hair and holds his boyfriend’s hand. She barely notices when she stops feeling like an extra, a spectator to the Enjolras and Grantaire Are Stupidly in Love Show, and like she actually belongs.

What she does notice is Grantaire very slowly moving to kiss her as the end credits of _Spinal Tap_ (it’s funny, the things one remembers) roll one evening. Enjolras is pretending really hard _not_ to notice, but she doesn’t have the time to worry about that because she’s being kissed and it’s really nice. As soon as he’s sure Eponine isn’t going to sock Grantaire on the jaw or laugh it off, Enjolras drops the pretense and watches like a hawk.

And why did nobody warn her how good a kisser Grantaire is? By the time she pulls away from him, she’s flushed and feeling almost guilty because for god’s sake, R’s _boyfriend_ is _right there_ and he has this really funny look on his face like he can’t process his emotions properly, but she knows him well enough to see there’s affection and hope and happiness and maybe a little jealousy in there. She holds his gaze, Grantaire’s hand still warm on her neck, until she sees his mouth twitch into a tiny, soft smile, and then leans in and pecks him on the lips. So he won’t feel left out. She doesn’t try to deepen it or anything, because she knows there’s no attraction on his part and that has never mattered before and it won’t start mattering now. He smiles against her skin and scrunches his nose at her. She echoes the expression, their little ritual, and everything feels right.

Joly practically vibrates with smugness, though how he finds out she can only guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments give me life, and if you dropped by my [Tumblr](http://at-heart-a-gentleman.tumblr.com) to say hello you'd definitely make my day.


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